


The Interview

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Interview, Prompt Fill, Strangers on a Bus, from my tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: http://destiel-love-forever.tumblr.com/Here's another prompt from my tumbrl! I had to take a break from writing on this site/my tumblr due to personal issues. It feels good to be back and I'm open for prompts again. ENJOY (:Dean is a nervous wreck, applying for a job too good for him, among people way smarter than him, and wearing one of his brother's gigantic old suits. He's riding the train, panicking, but his bench mate helps him calm down and talks him through why he's scared and why he's applying in the first place. It's wonderful, sparks fly, but Dean forgets to get the man's number before he's rushing off the train to make his interview. Little does he know who the boss is... wink wink





	

I almost missed the bus. I know people say that for dramatic effect so let me clear things up: I was running down the street with only one shoe on, the other in my hand. I was dodging in and out of people trying to reach the damn stop three blocks from my terribly cold, and very tiny, studio apartment. I was foot in the closing door, eyes wide open, pleading on my lips, late. I almost missed the bus. 

After that already embarrassing endeavor, I had to sit in a seat with someone beside it because there were no completely empty sections for me to seclude myself in. The man was friendly enough, giving me a warm smile as I asked with a shaky voice to sit down. His blue eyes searched me, assessing the oversized suit and the sweaty hair. There was no judgement there, at least not that I could see, which felt nice. 

So here I am, settled beside this stranger while I awkwardly put my other shoe on. I’m totally prepared to ride the twenty minutes in silence but he has a different idea. 

“So, what’s your name?”

“Dean.” I give him a glance and look back down at my hands. I’m trying to remember the practice interview questions Sammy gave me. My manners get the better of me, though, and I contribute to the conversation. “What’s yours?”

“Castiel.” His teeth flash as he smiles down at me. They’re bright white and perfectly aligned. Between that and his tailored suit, I can tell he’s got money. It makes me uncomfortable just thinking about it and I shift a little in my seat. Can he sense that I’m poor? Of course he can. I’m in a Moose’s suit for fucksakes. 

I focus again on the practice questions, rehearsing how I’ll complete the task of telling them about myself. He interrupts again. 

“Where ya headed?”

“Job interview.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m not going to get it though. I don’t know why I’m so nervous because it’s a total shot in the dark.”

His eyebrows scrunch in concentration as I speak. I watch his soft lips go from an amused smile to something resembling a comma. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s a job way above what I’m qualified for. My brother is making me apply for it.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Oh, God, of course I do. It’s the dream. I just know I won’t get it so why bother, you know?”

“You don’t know anything yet. They could love you.”

“They might. It doesn’t matter. I have a GED and a give em hell attitude. These days, it takes more than that.”

“Do you have any experience?” 

“Not the conventional kind.” He watches me, expecting me to elaborate. I lose myself in his eyes for a minute, wondering why in the world this man would care. “So the job would be for a publishing company. I’m applying to be an Editorial Assistant. I’d get to read manuscripts and evaluate them. I’d get to sit in on meetings and learn the processes. I’d get to edit smaller, special projects. I’d be able to work my way up. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s why I came to New York.”

“But your worried because your experience isn’t, what’s the word you used, conventional?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at me. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Well, like I said I don’t have a degree. I could never afford college, and the cash I made bartending double time barely covered the bills. I moved out here because I had a buddy who was opening his own restaurant. I’m the manager there, and it’s more than I was making back home, but when you take into account how expensive it is to live here, it’s sort of the same.” I need to stop rambling but I can’t. My brain is so exhausted it just keeps spilling out all of the information stuffed inside.

“So, you want the job for the money?”

“No. I’d live on the street if I could get this job. I might have to, because it’s actually going to be a pay cut, but it’s worth it.” I laugh a little to make the fact that I’m poor not so awkward. He smiles again. It’s a sad smile. 

“You think you won’t get it because of the lack of education?”

“It said on the requirements that education was preferred, not required, so I stand a chance. But I’m sure hundreds of people with great resumes are applying and they’ll be chosen over me in a heartbeat. Plus, they want at least two years of publishing experience and I have none.”

“You have your unconventional experience though.” He winks at me. It gets me to smile, and I realize that my anxiety is way down at the bottom levels now. It’s the first time in days I’ve been able to just breathe. 

“My unconventional experience isn’t something they’ll count.”

“What is it?” His phone starts to ring. I feel my stomach drop at the idea of ending this conversation, even though I realize it’s stupid to care about a conversation on a bus with a stranger. He doesn’t answer it, though. Instead, he pushes silent and slips it into his pocket. “I apologize for that. Continue.”

“Oh, um.” I’m floored that he’d ignore a call for me. Am I really that interesting? No. He must just feel bad for me. “Well, I grew up in a pretty rough house with my little brother and my dad. He wasn’t around much, my dad, and we kind of had to fend for ourselves. Anyway, I won’t get into that depressing shit, but there was a used bookstore just down the street from our place. My brother and I would walk down there whenever my dad passed out and we’d buy the fifty cent books in the bin in the back. They were all terrible. I mean, terrible. I don’t know how they ever got published. I started getting into the habit of writing in them with pen, and editing them. Overtime, it became an obsession. I started doing it with more expensive books, trying to test how good I really was. I fell in love with it. I mean, I always loved reading, but this way it became personal. I’m not much of a writer, and it feels like the perfect way to still have an impact on something I love so much.”

“Wow.” His smile is so bright it knocks me up a few pegs. Looking at him smile like that, I actually believe for a moment that I might have a shot. “I’d hire you in a heartbeat.”

“Well, thank you.” I look away to hide the fact that I’m totally blushing. “Too bad you’re not the guy interviewing me.”

He’s quiet for a moment. It makes me look back at him, worried I said something wrong. He’s still smiling but his eyes are somewhere else. “What’s the hardest book you think you’ve ever edited?”

“Stephen King; The Gunslinger.”

“Shit. You found errors in that?” 

“Oh, yeah. Three or four. There’s one that stays true throughout the whole book; King got his direction wrong. He describes where he is and then the whole rest of the book he’s off because he’s saying he’s going one way when, realistically, he had to have been going the other way if he was really where he said he was.” I give him a proud smile. Sammy was mind blown when I found that mistake. If I’m being honest, so was I. 

“I’m impressed.” 

“You know, the place I’m applying at is the place that published those books.”

“Oh, really?” His smile is off somehow. Distant. I watch him for a minute but he doesn’t say anything else to help me understand why he’s looking at me the way he is. 

“I probably won’t tell them. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. But I thought it was cool.”

“No, it is cool. You should be proud of that, Dean. You’ve got passion and a good attitude. That kind of stuff can’t be taught in a classroom that costs a thousand dollars to sit in.” 

He adjusts his tie. I realize we’re coming up to my stop, and it seems he’s getting off at the same place. So are at least fifteen other people. By the time the driver is calling the location, the bus is turning into a zoo. He tugs on my hand to get my attention as we both stand up. “You’ll do great. I believe in you.” 

“Thank you.” Someone pushes us from behind and sends us stumbling forward. I try to think of a way to ask for Castiel’s number without sounding awkward. I have to get it. He’s the first person in New York to make me feel calm; to make me feel at home. 

I walk a few steps once I’m off the bus to get away from the crowd of people. When I turn around to talk to him, I realize he’s gone. The busy sidewalk of Manhattan swallows me up as I try to search for his curly hair and black suit. I start to realize just how many black suits there are on a sidewalk in Manhattan. 

My nerves come back immediately, in full force. I take a deep, cleansing breath, and start to walk the block and a half to the building I need to be in. I check my watch and start to panic. The interviews start in fifteen minutes and I have no idea what order they’ll go in. I could be first. I could miss it. I start to run again, feeling just as much like an idiot as this morning. I hope Castiel doesn’t happen to see me making a fool out of myself again. 

I reach the building with two minutes of breathing room. Of course, the office I’m going to is on the forty-second floor. Thankfully, the elevator is just opening to my right. I jump in before it can fill up and press the glowing 42. 

I’ve never been in a slower elevator. It stops at almost every floor, letting people come and go as they please. I’m seven minutes late when I finally arrive at the right spot. The secretary is less than impressed with me as I hurriedly tell her my name and give her my ID. She instructs me to have a seat, giving me a very rude smirk as she shoos me toward the waiting area. 

I almost quit right there. The waiting area is full of woman in put together outfits, all sitting with a book in their hands like they belong here. The men are even worse. They are all in suits just as perfect as Castiel’s was, and as far as I can see, they all have briefcases and smartphones. I’m so far out of my league, I’m surprised they let me in. 

“Dean Winchester?” I jump at the sound of a woman standing in a doorway to my left. 

“That’s me?”

She looks me up and down before placing the most uncomfortable smile on her lips. “Right. I’m Mr. Novak’s assistant. He’ll be here in just a moment but you can come this way.”

“Oh. Okay.” I ignore the way everyone stares daggers into my back, probably wondering the same thing as me; why does the late guy get to go first?

The woman leads me through another much smaller waiting area, bringing me past what I assume is her desk in the process, before ending with us staring down a very intimidating wood door. She lets me in and gestures for me to take a seat in one of the massive leather chairs in front of a mahogany desk. “Would you like anything to drink? A water, perhaps?”

“Um, yeah. Thank you.” She’s back before I can realize how stupid it was for me to accept the offer. Where will I put the glass when I’m done? What if it makes me have to pee? What if he thinks I’m rude for taking something free when I don’t even belong here? I accept the glass from her with a smile. Then she leaves me where I am, closing the door so I’m enveloped in complete silence. 

Well, shit. I stare around the room to calm my nerves. There are books everywhere. Some of the walls are lined with bookcases, but there’s not enough to contain all of them. Stacks can be seen poking out from the sides of each case. There’s another stack on the coffee table on the other side of the expansive office. A couch is beside the table, with a book sitting open on it; as if he’s been reading it. 

I take a sip of my water and place it on the desk in front of me. At that moment, the door creaks open. I jump up and turn around to greet my possibly, hopefully, probably not, future boss. Two things happen at once; my right hand knocks over my glass of water, and I recognize the man in front of me. It’s easier to deal with the first issue so I turn back around and start mopping the liquid up with my oversized coat sleeve. 

“Leave it. It’s okay.” Castiel closes the door behind himself and walks forward. I step away from the desk, eyeing all of the books and papers that are only inches away from being soaked. He takes a hankerchief out of his front pocket and wipes down the remainder of the water. When he’s finished, he smiles at me. “Nice to see you, again.”

“I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. There seems to be a million things. 

“Dean, there’s nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t know who I was.”

“I know.” Then it dawns on me; I was the only one that was clueless on that bus today. He must have figured it out pretty early. “You knew, though. Didn’t you?”

“I did, yes. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I have to go.” I step back, hands up in the air like he’s going to hurt me and I’m surrendering. 

“Dean.”

“No, I can’t be here. I mean, you know why I can’t have the job. I told you everything.” I wipe a hand down my face. All the blood in my body seems to be pumping into my heart, making everything feel frantic and heavy. “Oh, God. I told you about the Stephen King error.”

“I loved that!”

“Know you didn’t. Oh, God.” I bury my face in my hands. “Oh, God.”

“Dean.”

“What?” I look up at him, knowing that this is probably it for me. He’s the CEO of this damn company; the biggest publishing house in America for fucksake. I’m done. I should   
have never left Kansas. Why did I ever think I could become anything other than-

“You’re hired.”

“Wait. What?”

“You start Monday. You’re only part time, though. The company would like to start you at a University. It’d benefit both of us if you received a proper education on grammar, etcetera.” 

“No.”

“Excuse me?” His smile slips into frustration. He steps towards me but I move away from him. 

“You’re either hiring me because you feel bad for me, or you’re doing it to get in my pants. I won’t allow it. Fuck no. That’s not who I am.” I lift my chin in defiance, glaring at him. 

“Winchester’s work for what they get.”

“Good. I expect you to work.” He steps towards me again and I realize I’m backed up against the door. He’s smiling, like the smile from the bus earlier, the one I couldn’t place. “I think you’d be one of the best Editorial Assistants we’ve ever had. I think you’ll move up fast, especially once that degree is under your belt. I think you’re exactly right for this job.”

“But.”

“And don’t worry, Dean. I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel the opposite. You’re following your dreams, that’s nothing to pity. And you’re right, I do want to get in your pants. And I intend to. But not because I’m your boss. Here, I’m not your boss. Literally. I’m in charge of hiring but I’m not even the person who supervises you. That’s below my pay grade, not to sound like a dick or anything. So whether you get promoted or fired is completely on Andrea, your boss. I mean, I can override the decision but I don’t think I’ll ever need to. I don’t think you’ll let me, or yourself, or your brother for that matter, down.”

“Sir.”

“Castiel.” He reaches a hand up to cup my face. “Take the job, Dean.”

“Okay.” The word is barely audible but he I can tell he hears it because his face breaks free into the most beautiful smile. It reaches all the way up to his bright blue eyes, making their edges wrinkle. 

“Go out with me. Tonight.”

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” He leans in. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay.”


End file.
